


Tired Eyes, Tired Hearts

by Fijou



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, Fluff, Kinda fluff, M/M, nights at the musain, whats a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 13:51:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10108481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fijou/pseuds/Fijou
Summary: There was something odd about the situation in the café Musain that night.Not the fact that Grantaire was still stuck to his table in the corner, a bottle in one hand and his head resting on the other.What was odd that night was that he wasn't the only one who had stayed behind long after everyone else had left.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first attempt at writing about these soft boyfriends but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless.  
> Oh and I also kinda gave up on writing the direct speech canon-era-like. Sorry about that.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy.

There was something odd about the situation in the café Musain that night.  
Not the fact that Grantaire was still stuck to his table in the corner, a bottle in one hand and his head resting on the other.  
What was odd that night was that he wasn't the only one who had stayed behind long after everyone else had left like he usually did. If someone had asked him why he spent the most part of his nights in a by then abandoned café he couldn't have given a proper answer. Maybe it happened due to the exhaustion that set in after an excessive consumption of wine which made him lose trust in himself to find the way back to his room that was just a few houses down the road. Or maybe because he had nothing and no one awaiting him there. Or maybe he simply liked this place, liked sleeping there with his head on the table he had claimed and everyone respected to be his own without ever questioning it. It made him feel like he belonged.  
That night however sleep wouldn't come easy and the reason for this was as much pleasant as it was frustrating.  
Enjolras, the golden haired human embodiment of courage and elegance, was rummaging through a pile of papers at one of the other tables as Grantaire watched him. Although there were times when Grantaire doubted the other man was human at all.  
He knew that in that moment Enjolras was completely lost in thought about revolutions and barricades and their cause.  
Everyone always talked about their cause but it wasn't Grantaire's. There was a clear distinction between their cause and the real reasons he devoted all his time and energy, as much as his alcohol consumption and personal problems allowed him to have, to these young revolutionaries.   
Everyone was aware of this, as Grantaire was never short of a mocking comment or a point to criticise their fearless leader, but no one could quite figure out what those real reasons, what his true motivation was.  
Grantaire wasn't entirely sure if he wanted it to stay that way or not.  
Thoughts as conflicting as those troubled him too as his gaze, softened by the alcohol, followed every of Enjolras' movements. If he kept quiet he could linger for a while longer in the presence of the man he adored and his bottle of wine. If he made himself known to Enjolras, who was most likely oblivious to the man watching him from afar as he was to many things surrounding him, he had the chance to hear his voice but would probably cause him to leave soon after.  
It almost pained Grantaire to disturb the other when he seemed to be so content with what he was working on, a small hopeful smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Almost. He let egoism get the best of him. Just a few moments of Enjolras' attention would be worth it.

“Do you never get tired of going through all these papers that have the same things written on them every time?”, he asked eventually and smiled as Enjolras' movements faltered in startled realisation that he wasn't alone.

''Do you never get tired of being nothing but a distraction?”, Enjolras retorted, his back still turned to the source of the other voice, “and if you had actually paid attention during the meeting you would know that they don't always read the same things. We altered the introductory part.”

Grantaire couldn't help but laugh at that.

“Apologies, oh great leader”, he said in his usual teasing tone, “of course, this is truly impressive.”

“Seriously, Grantaire”, Enjolras began and accentuated the name in a way that caused the addressee to look up from his bottle, “don't you get tired of constantly keeping me from doing my work? Who benefits from it?”

“Believe it or not”, Grantaire replied and he sounded so unusually genuine that Enjolras had to turn around and face him, “even you deserve a break and to smile every once in a while.”  
“What makes you think you're the one who can give that to me?”, the other man asked in a dismissive voice, his arms folded across his chest and his back leaning against the table, the papers on it forgotten.

The words felt like a punch to the stomach for Grantaire but he smiled. He had survived worse.

After a short pause he said matter-of-factly: “My enormously big and unwavering ego.”

Now it was Enjolras' turn to snort a short laugh and he was both too slow to disguise it as a cough and obviously unaware of the smile that stayed on his face for a few seconds too long.

“Ah, there it is”, Grantaire said pleased, with a smile of his own and for a second he could have sworn Enjolras blushed. But perhaps it was only the wine fogging his vision and mind. 

When the moments of silence stretched from seconds to a minute Grantaire added: “And, by the way, that was a terrible attempt to cover up your laugh.”

“Not everyone can perfect the art of hiding their emotions”, Enjolras replied, his tone a hint too serious to pass as joke.

“Well, what can I say”, Grantaire's smile never vanished but if one looked closely they would notice it turned into something sad and almost apologetic, “I am a man of many talents.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes but his expression was soft and he understood the comment for what it was, a defence mechanism.   
Because although he was often lost in his own little world and the cause threatened to consume him, he had a better insight into human nature and his surroundings than Grantaire gave him credit for. For you couldn't lead people into battle if you didn't know them.

“Jokes aside”, he said with a look on his face that could be interpreted as concern but Grantaire didn't dare to wish for that much, “you look tired. You shouldn't spend your night here and not with me who can offer you nothing but conversations about things you don't believe in.”

Grantaire almost sighed in relief at this choice of words. He didn't know if he could take it many more times if people mistook his lack of belief for carelessness.

“Oh but you know, Enjolras”, he began and then paused for the beat of a heart, “I'm always tired but never of you.”

For a split second there was an expression on Enjolras' face that Grantaire couldn't quite place in their usual banter. But that was always the case with this man. Everything was contradicting and confusing. As were Grantaire's feelings for him.

When Enjolras unfolded his arms and crossed the room to the other table with three slow steps Grantaire fixed his gaze on the bottle in his hand. Something that didn't happen often, he never looked down from someone's challenging eyes.  
After a short pause in which nothing but the sound of their breathing had filled the air Enjolras' hand came into Grantaire's field of vision. He reached for the wine and when Grantaire didn't protest he took it from his hand.  
Grantaire had expected this to be Enjolras' way of telling him to quit drinking for now as he did almost every day but instead Enjolras lifted the bottle to his own mouth.  
Grantaire's disbelieving stare caused him to smile once again and he stopped on his way before returning to his own table and his work. His back already turned to the man with the black curls he put a hand on his shoulder and applied so little pressure Grantaire wouldn't have noticed someone touched him at all if his skin didn't burn beneath the cloth where the hand lay. 

When Enjolras had returned to his place and spoke again Grantaire finally managed to look away from the bottle that had just moments before touched the other's lips.

“There is still work to be done so I will be kept here for some more time. If you prefer to stay, I don't mind.” As he said those words he subtly turned again to face Grantaire and pushed one of his blonde curls behind his ear.

Grantaire gave him another smile and eventually said: “I would very much like that.”

Enjolras didn't reply but the corners of his mouth stayed turned upwards slightly as he returned his attention to the papers before him.  
Grantaire knew this was all he could offer and he accepted it gratefully. He took another sip from the bottle that stood on the table and somehow now the wine tasted sweeter than it had before.  
They had shared a bottle of wine, they had shared smiles. For now this was enough for Grantaire. It was worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> I might post more things related to this little fic because I felt like a kiss would have been ooc for both characters at this point but u know i do want them to get a happily ever after. But I hope u enjoyed this anyway and that it made you as happy as it made me when I wrote it. Have a great day/night !!


End file.
